


filled with love, just for you

by alateni



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Non-Idol AU, beware to cringe, but they're not that important, but what else is new lol, contains one of the cheesiest lines i've ever written, there are some OC's (like one) in there, this is like, very very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alateni/pseuds/alateni
Summary: Xu Minghao has the world at his fingertips - anything he could ever desire was just a phone call away. Good thing he already has all he needs in the form of a simple young man named Kim Mingyu.





	filled with love, just for you

Minghao wakes up before the sun does and, for once, he doesn’t feel like stabbing himself in the eye multiple times. A true miracle. Instead, Minghao stretches in bed – much like a cat – and accidentally throws half of his blanket onto the floor. Ignoring that fact, Minghao snuggles into his pillow, hugging it against his body, before closing his eyes. The room is still dark, and the absence of people walking around outside causes his eyes to droop lower.

Jolting back awake, Minghao’s eyes widen as he checks his phone. Sighing in relief when he sees only five minutes have passed, Minghao throws the phone onto the bed. Minghao sighs when the phone misses the bed entirely and lands on the hardwood floor with a loud _clack_ but pays it no mind. Instead, the boy sits up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily, and yawns. If it were any other day, Minghao would’ve fallen right back asleep, not stirring until the sun was already halfway across the sky, but today was different. Sacrificing a couple of hours of sleep would be worth it in the end.

Getting up, the lanky boy almost trips over his phone on the way to the bathroom. Kicking it aside, Minghao manages to stagger his way into the private bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror while wincing as he turns on the lights, the boy drags his hands across his face before deciding, _fuck it_ , he was too tired to shower.

Grabbing his toothbrush and putting a generous amount of toothpaste on it (Minghao hated, along with many things, morning breath with a passion), Minghao proceeds to make himself presentable. After washing his face and somewhat styling his hair, Minghao steps out of the bathroom, leaving the light on. More awake now, Minghao manages to pick up his phone and put it on the dresser beside his bed before moving to his closet.

Walking into the smaller room, Minghao picks through various styles and types of clothing, before throwing style to the wind and going for full-on comfort. Of course, his grey sweatpants and cozy sweater were still brand name (and specially designed for him), but so was everything else in his closet. Pausing in front of the full-length mirror, Minghao frowns, looking at his hair, before deciding to grab a hat as well. Plopping said clothing on his head, Minghao brushes some of the hair from his face before grabbing his phone and walking out of the room.

“Morning sir,” Minghao turns his head and spots Saeyeon. The older woman was bent over in a bow, a pile of clothes in her hands. She straightens up, giving Minghao a warm smile, eyes crinkling into crescent moons – something that never ceased to make Minghao smile.

“Morning,” Minghao nods in return. “I’m going out, no need to tell my parents alright?”

“Oh, of course,” Saeyeon responds, and if she was surprised at all, she hides it professionally. “May I ask why?”

“Why what?” Minghao asks, following Saeyeon as she walks downstairs – probably to the laundry room.

“Well,” Saeyeon laughs to herself, “for one, why are you awake so early? Even on a good day it takes breakfast in bed and a good hour before I can wake you up.”

“I’m not that bad!” Minghao complains, whining. Saeyeon laughs, giving him a knowing look – to which Minghao avoids. He wasn’t, honestly. Minghao could definitely be a morning person if he wanted to, it’s just that he didn’t see the point in waking up early on most days. It didn’t give him more or less time – especially when he ran on his own, erratic schedule. There was, in his mind, no benefit to waking up before noontime. At least, not until recently.

“Of course not,” Saeyeon eases up on the topic, but the twinkle in her eye makes Minghao feel as if he’s lost an unspoken battle. “Then where are you going?”

“Just… around,” Minghao falters, not knowing what to say. Honestly, he hadn’t been expecting to run into Saeyeon. No one else would’ve questioned him, anyone else would have bowed good morning before going on their way – with a list of chores to finish and not enough time to finish it all. Saeyeon, on the other hand, always made sure to have time for Minghao. It was one of the things he liked best about her, but it was a double-edged sword.

 “Hmmm,” Saeyeon hums, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Are you going to be eating breakfast before you go?”

“No,” Minghao draws out the syllable, trying to inch towards the garage. Saeyeon’s eyebrow rises even more – in a way Minghao didn’t think was possible. He considers just running for it, confident in his ability to jump into his car and drive away before Saeyeon could come after him (the older woman was young at heart, but her joints didn’t seem to agree with her nowadays). Before he can make a move, Saeyeon unceremoniously dumps the clothes she was carrying into Minghao’s hands.

“You know,” Saeyeon gestures for Minghao to follow her into the laundry room. Minghao sighs, wondering if he should just drop the clothes then and there (it wasn’t _his_ job after all), but a small voice in his head reminds him not to be a spoiled _brat_ and follow Saeyeon. He complies.

“The chefs have been wondering,” Saeyeon continues as they walk into the large laundry room. There are a number of washing and drying machines, all lined up and organized according to function, and at least two machines were already running. “They’ve been wondering why you haven’t been eating at home lately. Are you feeling sick sir?”

“No, not at all,” Minghao shakes his head. Saeyeon instructs him to place the clothes in a laundry basket, before telling him to sort out the colours and whites. “I’ve uh, just been spending more time eating out, that’s all.”

“That’s the thing,” Saeyeon hums as she takes out a load of laundry from the dryer. She begins to fold it, carefully creasing the clothing and making Minghao wait. “We have the best staff on board, you know that right? Chefs from all over the world, ready to make you anything you want. They’ve just been feeling a little self-conscious I guess. I think they need a self-esteem boost if you ask me.” Saeyeon’s eyes twinkle impishly, and Minghao grins. The woman was always a little too mischievous for her own good, though never in a malicious manner. Saeyeon was just the kind of person to see past your outer shell and understand what you felt on the inside – and call you out on it, no matter how immature it was.

“I’ll eat dinner at home then,” Minghao promises. He helps Saeyeon fold a bit more clothing, before his phone vibrates and he hastily bids her goodbye.

“Be careful!” Saeyeon calls as Minghao rushes out of the room. He nods, hollers something along the lines of “I will!”, before racing into the garage in record time. Unlocking the door, Minghao throws his things onto the passenger seat before reversing. As he drives out of the house grounds, he greets the guard at the gate before practically flooring it.

Slowing down a couple minutes later as he reaches a main road (Minghao was in a rush, but that didn’t mean he wanted to die), the slender boy drives slowly (albeit faster than what would be considered safe) into the main part of the city. Here, the streets were smaller, more cramped. There were more pedestrians running around in between cars, and the buildings were older – more run down. Minghao, with his shiny, expensive car, stood out like a sore thumb.

Ignoring the looks tossed his way, Minghao parks his car and mindlessly pays for the parking fee before typing a message into his phone. He knew the person who owned the building beside the parking lot, or rather, his parents did. Regardless, they’d watch his car and make sure it wouldn’t get stolen – or else they’d have another thing coming. Finishing up, Minghao slips the phone into his pocket and races down the street. Regretting his choice in shoes (while they looked nice, they also pinched his toes), Minghao grits his teeth and deals with the discomfort. Soon enough, he ends up outside an apartment. It isn’t broken down, but the building has definitely seen better days. There’s a bit of paint peeling from the walls, some of the floorboards creak and squeak as Minghao walks by, but rather than run down, it looked lived in, homey almost. Anyways, Minghao decided long ago that he liked it – flaws and all.

Taking the stairs (as the elevator, even though it was in working condition, moved at a snail’s pace and had a habit of stalling in between floors), Minghao quickly climbs up five flights. Reaching the fifth floor without losing his breath, Minghao takes a moment to congratulate himself on his athleticism. Who needed a gym membership when you could just climb up five flights of stairs every day? Definitely not Minghao it seemed.

Walking down the halls, Minghao hums to himself, already in a happier mood. The sun had risen now, though it was still partly hidden by the horizon. Nevertheless, as Minghao stops in front of room 508, he can already hear sounds inside. Knocking on the door, Minghao waits, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to calm the excitement in his heart. It wasn’t a big deal, Minghao reminds himself, he’s done this a thousand time before. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about. After all, it was just–

“Hey,” Minghao’s head shoots up, a smile stretching widely across his face despite his earlier promises to stay cool. “You made it.”

“I always do,” Minghao schools his expression into something more neutral and less embarrassing. The man on the other side of the door laughs, and Minghao pretends he doesn’t automatically smile too.

“Of course, come on in, I’m almost done,” leaving the entrance way open, the male goes back to the kitchen. Walking inside and closing the door, Minghao takes off his shoes. He places them in the empty spot by the door (reserved, just for him! The thought makes Minghao simultaneously cringe and squeal), and makes his way into the apartment. It’s small but not cramped. Instead, it has a cozy and warm feel to it. There isn’t much room for unnecessary trinkets, so the apartment is sparsely decorated. The kitchen is open, separated from the common area by half a wall. There’s a hallway leading to a bathroom, which then splits into two bedrooms. Minghao knows, from experience, that each bedroom is half the size of his own room. In fact, the whole apartment is probably twice the area of his one bedroom, but, for some reason, it felt more lived in than his entire house.

“Morning Mingyu,” Minghao greets, settling into one of the mismatched chairs at the dining table. Mingyu and his roommate didn’t have enough money to buy matching furniture – only people that had too much money to spend on meaningless things did, like Minghao’s parents. Mingyu hums in response, walking around the kitchen to finish making breakfast. Minghao rests his face on the table, eyes half shut as he watches Mingyu bustle around. There’s a calm feeling between the two of them, and though Minghao’s tired from lack of sleep, he can’t find it in himself to mind. Not when he can spend some time with Mingyu before the other male goes to work.

“Move,” Mingyu says, poking Minghao’s cheek. The slender boy whines, sitting up and rubbing at his face like Mingyu burned him, before immediately ceasing his complaints after Mingyu places a bowl of instant noodles in front of him.

“Thanks for the meal,” Minghao sings, digging in immediately. Mingyu laughs, settling in across from Minghao, before putting a couple of side dishes on the table.

“I don’t understand,” Mingyu says, in between bites, “why you force yourself to come here almost every morning. Don’t you have a big fancy crew of professional chefs to make you anything you want at home?”

Minghao shrugs, “I do.” He leaves it at that, to which Mingyu is too tired, too busy thinking about what else he has to do today, to notice. Minghao watches as Mingyu multitasks – eating his noodles and scrolling through his phone at the same time. While most people (mainly Minghao) would be scolded if they ever did something like that, Minghao knew Mingyu had a reason to do so.

Mingyu you see, was a bit of a busy body (and by a bit Minghao means definitely). He worked, a lot – and that was sugar coating it. Ever since Mingyu graduated from university (the same one Minghao had attended), the male never had a stable job. He went from this job to the next, working for whoever would pay him. For now, he had a semi-stable job at the café across the street – along with a weekend gig at the restaurant on their old university campus. Along with that, Minghao knew Mingyu was a tutor for a couple of kids at the nearby high school – specializing in mathematics of all things. And those were the jobs Minghao knew about. Even though Mingyu constantly told him not to worry, he just _knew_ that the other boy was busier than he let on.

Meaning that, despite the fact that Mingyu graduated with honours, Minghao thinks he’s insanely dumb. Things would be way easier, the Chinese boy thinks as he slurps his soup, if he would let someone _help_ him. Minghao understood Mingyu was independent. Ever since he left his parents house after high school, Mingyu had sworn to do his best to be less of a burden upon them. It was admirable, Minghao supposes, for him to want to pay them back as soon as possible. But if that meant you could barely afford rent and skipped meals more often than you ate them, it wasn’t worth it.

Mingyu however, was nothing but stubborn. No matter how many times Minghao tried to help him – sneakily paying for his groceries or slipping his landlord the rent cheque before Mingyu could – Mingyu refused. Even if it meant Mingyu forcefully stuffed his own cash into Minghao’s wallet, the taller boy left Minghao feeling exasperated and hopeless.

“Hey,” Mingyu shouts, startling Minghao into dropping his chopsticks. “I can hear you thinking from over here. Stop worrying.”

“I’m not,” Minghao juts out his lower lip – the closest thing he’ll ever get to a pout. Ducking out of Mingyu’s view, Minghao picks up the chopsticks and stands up. Grabbing the bowl and sticking his tongue out at Mingyu, Minghao walks over to the sink and begins to wash his bowl. Before Mingyu can react, the slender male grabs the pot and some left over cups and washes those too.

“You don’t have to,” comes Mingyu’s gruff voice. Minghao sniffs, elbowing Mingyu when the taller boy puts his bowl into the sink for Minghao to wash.

“Yeah right,” Minghao rolls his eyes. “Then why don’t _you_ wash them?”

“You’re already doing them though,” Mingyu whines, burrowing his face into the crook of Minghao’s neck. His arms come up to encircle Minghao’s waist while he pulls the other man closer to his chest. Humming, Mingyu breathes out softly, tickling the sensitive skin on Minghao’s neck. Sighing in fake annoyance, Minghao washes the rest of the dishes, taking note of the fact that Mingyu was running low on dish detergent, before placing everything on the drying rack.

“When do you have to work?” Minghao asks, stumbling as he tries to walk around the apartment with Mingyu clutching his waist like some overgrown parasite. Mingyu mumbles against his neck, eyes closed and probably leaching his warmth. Stifling a giggle, Minghao finally manages to fall somewhat comfortably onto the couch. Laying sideways, Minghao tucks his feet closer to himself so Mingyu’s ridiculously long legs have room on the couch before telling the taller male to repeat himself.

Mingyu rearranges his head, so that his mouth was no longer pressed against Minghao’s neck, before speaking. “Technically,” he drawls, eyes opening slowly and languidly. “I should have already left. I was supposed to meet up with Taejin before he went to school,” Mingyu yawns, “but he’s always late so things will be okay.”

“You’re being a bad influence,” Minghao smacks Mingyu sharply. “You should be on time no matter what – what are you going to do if he’s actually on time today?”

“I doubt it,” Mingyu mumbles. “Besides, then I would’ve missed you.” The last part is whispered, so softly that Minghao almost doesn’t hear it. He does, however. Mostly because Mingyu’s speaking almost directly into his ear. It causes him to flush, both pleased and guilty at the same time. He knew he should’ve woken up earlier today.

Mingyu was always so insanely busy. So much so that the two barely got time to spend together. If Minghao didn’t wake up early enough to catch Mingyu before he left for work in the morning, he probably wouldn’t see the Korean male for weeks on end. They couldn’t hang out after work, not when Mingyu sometimes took late night shifts and came home practically dead on his feet. Adding onto that, Mingyu had just started a new job last week, a bi-weekly one at the convenience store a couple streets over. It didn’t seem too bad at first. The pay was good, and Mingyu didn’t even have too many hours. That is, until Minghao found out that the store was open 24/7 – and Mingyu was often the one working overnight, graveyard shifts.

It was impossible, Minghao sighs, too tired to argue, for them to have more than an hour to themselves. If Mingyu wasn’t working, then Minghao was overseas – off attending runways and fashion walks, being the model son to his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Xu, Minghao’s parents, were kind-hearted and affectionate, but, unfortunately, were extremely, _extremely_ busy. Almost more so than Mingyu. They were, after all, one of the leading fashion designers in terms of Asian styling. Obviously, then, Minghao was to follow in their shoes. Which, honestly, wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. Ever since he was young, Minghao loved to watch his mother and father work. He spent hours in their studio, stunned silent as they transformed limp pieces of cloth into living designs, shaping oh-so-perfectly around the models, and fluttering with a special magic as they made their way down the runway.

So, no, Minghao never had trouble with his pre-determined fate. Right now though? He couldn’t help but scorn the odd, indefinite hours he had to work. Especially when it meant he could barely find the time (and sometimes the energy) to see Mingyu regularly.

“I should get going,” Mingyu mumbles, a couple of minutes later. Minghao had almost fallen asleep, lulled by Mingyu’s warmth and breathing. At his words though, the boy startles awake. He frowns, immediately feeling cold after Mingyu releases him from his hold. Sitting up, Minghao’s frown deepens as Mingyu scutters around the house, picking up what he’d need to last the day. Keenly, Minghao notices Mingyu doesn’t pack a lunch.

“Hey,” Minghao says, stopping Mingyu from putting on his shoes. An idea pops into his mind, a small seed really. If it went well though… let’s just say most of Minghao’s problems would be solved. “When do you get off work?”

“Uh, late,” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t have to work at the convenience store tonight – the heater’s broken and being fixed, but I think I’m staying to help with some prep work at the restaurant? I’ll be done at like, 11, probably closer to midnight actually.”

“They’re letting you do prep work?” Minghao’s eyes widen, momentarily distracted. Mingyu nods, grinning. He was excited, and rightly so. The taller boy always had a thing for cooking (that and fixing things), and though that mathematics degree he got in university wouldn’t help at all, Mingyu couldn’t help but be drawn towards the culinary arts. “That’s amazing!”

“I know,” Mingyu grins, flashing the bright smile that made Minghao fall in love with him in the first place. “So, yeah, I’m probably going to be giving it my all tonight.”

“Hm,” Minghao nods, refocusing. “So,” Minghao slides forwards, taking full advantage of the fact that no one would yell at him for scuffing the floorboards – unlike at his own house. “Want to tell me why you didn’t pack a lunch?”

Mingyu pauses. “What?”

“You heard me,” Minghao slips in front of the other man, leaning against the doorway to stop him from leaving. “You, lunch, no?”

“Uh,” Mingyu blinks. “I did… pack one.”

“Let me see it then,” Minghao holds his hands out. Mingyu blanks. “I called it,” Minghao sings, before frowning and straightening up. Putting his hands on his hips, he gives Mingyu his sternest glare. Minghao resists the urge to laugh at the situation – it looked too much like a parent scolding their child for him to be too serious. Regardless, he needed to make sure his message was getting through to Mingyu. “Lying is a no-no, you know this.”

“I’m sorry?” Mingyu replies, flusters.

“Good, now,” Minghao smiles, “as an apology, after you’re done work, I’m going to send a car for you.”

Mingyu blinks. “I’m sorry?” he repeats.

“You heard me,” Minghao hums. He looks down, sliding on his shoes and grabbing his stuff before Mingyu could move from his spot by the door. There was no use in staying if Mingyu was leaving after all. Well, Minghao could always talk to Jungkook, Mingyu’s roommate, but they never got along when they were alone. Minghao thinks it’s because they’re both a little on the awkward side – especially with new people. Whatever it was, without Mingyu to diffuse the mysterious tension in the air, they were basically strangers.

“But, but why?” Mingyu asks, following as Minghao tugs him forwards. He was going to be late if he stood and stared any longer. “Why? I always walk home after work.”

“You’re not going home,” Minghao replies, grabbing the keys from Mingyu’s frozen fingers. He locks up, making sure they turned off the stove (they hadn’t, once before – but that was a story for another time), before pushing Mingyu forwards. Maybe they should take the elevator, as slow as it was, if Mingyu was going to keep being so difficult.

“I’m not?” Mingyu gives Minghao a quizzical look, taking the keys from Minghao’s open palm. He tucks them into his pocket, walking – albeit a bit stiffly – after the shorter male.

“Nope, you’re coming back home with me,” Minghao replies.

Mingyu stops right in front of the stairs. “What?”

“Come on, we were making such good progress too,” Minghao sighs. He attempts to push Mingyu forwards, being careful not to cause the other to trip, but to no avail. Mingyu just would not budge. Instead of going down the stairs, Mingyu turns right around and faces Minghao.

“No, Minghao, what are you saying?” Mingyu stands firm, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“You,” Minghao pokes Mingyu in the chest. “Are going to come home with me after work. Then,” Minghao pokes Mingyu again, “you’re going to eat something good. Something great. What kind of food do you like? I’ll get my chefs to cook you anything you want.”

“Uh,” Mingyu starts, before shutting his mouth when Minghao gives him a stern look.

“And then you can sleep in my bed and we can cuddle or something I don’t know,” at this, Minghao flushes slightly, “or you can sleep somewhere else – I don’t know how tired you’ll be. Bottom line is, the restaurant is closer to my house than it is to yours, and I know for sure you’re not going to eat anything if you come back here tonight so I’m killing two birds with one stone.”

“Minghao, I’m not a charity case,” Mingyu frowns. “I can live on my own.”

“I _know_ ,” Minghao sighs. “And I’m not pitying you. This is payback.”

“Pay… back?”

“You know, because you’re always cooking me ramen and stuff,” Minghao shrugs. “I’m sure by this point I owe you a couple of meals.”

“But you don’t have to, I enjoy doing stuff like that,” Mingyu throws out. There it is again. The stubbornness that made Minghao love and hate him at the same time.

“And maybe I enjoy doing stuff like this for you too!” Minghao explodes, finally. It’s early, there are still people sleeping, but Minghao can’t bring it in himself to care. He was _tired_. Tired of seeing Mingyu exhausted, coming home after hours and _hours_ of work, and barely having enough energy to take care of himself. It wasn’t healthy. “If you can cook for me and spend money buying me presents even though it should be going towards your rent, I can do this stuff too, can’t I?” Minghao challenges. “Or are you saying I’m not your equal and that you have to take care of me? I’m not a doll Mingyu. I can do that myself.”

“That’s not,” Mingyu sighs. “I didn’t,” he tries again, only to falter. “I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then let me indulge you,” Minghao insists. “Just this once.”

“But why?” Mingyu asks, softly this time. Their voices have gone from shouting to whispering in a matter of seconds. The soft words between the two of them contrasted greatly from the loud volume of their speech before, a difference so strong yet subtle that it makes Minghao’s walls break down.

“Because you’ve been working so much more now,” Minghao starts, voice cracking, “and I miss you,” he finishes, quietly, almost silently. He’s almost sure he didn’t say it all, but Mingyu always had an uncanny ability to read his mind. Maybe he actually thought it, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because Mingyu was wrapping him in a hug and Minghao was struggling not to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu whispers. He was definitely going to be late now. “I didn’t, I didn’t realize.” Minghao sniffs in response. “I was,” Mingyu bites his lip. “I was saving up some money, for, for a present. For you.” Minghao looks up, and if he wasn’t on the verge of tears, maybe he would’ve laughed at how Mingyu still stumbles over his words when he was nervous. Just like he had on their first date.

“It’s our anniversary soon you know,” Mingyu continues. “One year,” he smiles, a blinding one that dries the unshed tears in Minghao’s eyes. “I wanted it to be special.”

“Stupid,” Minghao huffs. “I don’t need a present.”

“But I wanted to give you one all the same,” Mingyu coos, he leans forwards, ducks down and rubs their noses together. It makes Minghao’s nose itch, but the fondness that spreads across his chest stops him from pushing Mingyu away. That had always been their thing after all. While other couples kissed every waking moment of their lives, Mingyu and Minghao rubbed noses. Minghao couldn’t remember when it had started, but he did remember the tender memories associated with it. He loved it. He loved Mingyu.

“If you’re working overtime for a present for me,” Minghao sulks, “then you can come over every night after your later shifts to my place so I can feed you and make sure you rest. It’s only fair – compensation if you want to think of it that way.”

“Okay,” Mingyu laughs, “I feel like there’s no way I’ll be able to say otherwise anyways.”

“You guessed it,” Minghao replies, burrowing his face into Mingyu’s chest one last time before stepping back. “Besides, my chefs are getting sulky you know? Wondering who’s this guy who makes convenience store instant noodles so good it lures me away from their five-star cooking.”

“I’ll be glad to meet them then,” Mingyu grins. “And apologize. Maybe teach them how to make five-star instant noodles.”

“It wouldn’t work anyways,” Minghao shrugs, before pushing Mingyu to start walking down the stairs. He was definitely late. At least he finally started to move. “They don’t have your secret ingredient.”

“Oh? And what is that.”

“Don’t make me say it,” Minghao grumbles. He tries to walk faster, but alas, Mingyu catches up easily with his stupidly long legs. It’s not even like Minghao can run away either, with the two having to walk down _five_ flights of stairs together. Once again, Minghao curses the fact that Mingyu lived so far up. “Please.”

“You started this, not me,” Mingyu reminds. “Now please, Hao, enlighten me as to what my secret ingredient is.”

“I hate you,” Minghao replies instead. “You always do this.” Mingyu laughs, but no matter what he does or says to prod and poke at Minghao, the Chinese boy stays silent the whole walk down the stairs. As they exit Mingyu’s apartment building, Minghao catches Mingyu’s arm and pulls him in for a hug.

“Bye,” Minghao mumbles into his clothing. “Be safe. Don’t be stupid.”

“Yes mom,” Mingyu laughs, even though he pulls Minghao tighter into his embrace, “I’ll try.” Minghao pouts at that, narrowing his eyes and opening his mouth to give Mingyu a lecture. Well, he would, if only Mingyu didn’t duck down at that exact moment and place a kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, with a stupidly affectionate look in his eyes that makes Minghao’s scolding disappear.

“It’s a date,” Minghao replies. Mingyu chuckles, before the two detach. Watching as Mingyu waves goodbye, Minghao waits until Mingyu crosses the street safely, on his way to meet up with his student, before starting out towards the parking lot. For once, Minghao’s walk back to his car isn’t filled with a bittersweet longing. This time, it’s filled with excitement.

This time, it’s filled with love.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been floating in my mind for like, a year now. I've only just written it tho- Basically, Minghao is a rich boy with a team of skilled chefs that could literally make him anything he could ever want but instead, he runs to eat convenience store instant noodles cooked by his not-as-rich-boyfriend and everyone is like, "but wHY?"
> 
> Anyways, remember that you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alatenii) if you want to like, I don't know, talk about things or just chill :D
> 
>   
> Hope you're smiling!  
> 
> 
>   
> ~ alateni  
> 


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